THESE BROKEN VOWS (Kazbrekker x Fem!reader) [ book version]

Chapter 11

KAZ P.O.V

They stayed up planning well past midnight. Kaz was wary of the changes to the plan as well as the prospect of managing Nina’s pack of Grisha.

But though he gave no indication to the others, there were elements of this new course that appealed to him. It was possible that Van Eck would piece together what the Shu were doing and go after the city’s remaining Grisha himself.

They were a weapon Kaz didn’t want to see in the mercher’s arsenal.

But they couldn’t let this little rescue slow them down. With so many
opponents and the stadwatch involved, they couldn’t afford it.

Given enough time, the Shu would stop worrying about those dry-docked warships and the Council of Tides, and find their way to Black Veil.

Kaz wanted Kuwei out of the city and removed from play as soon as possible.

At last, they put their lists and sketches aside. The wreckage of their
makeshift meal was cleared from the table to avoid attracting the rats of
Black Veil, and the lanterns were doused.

The others would sleep.

Kaz could not.

He’d meant what he’d said.

Van Eck had more money, more allies, and the might of the city behind him.

They couldn’t just be smarter than Van Eck, they had to be relentless.

And Kaz could see what the others couldn’t. They’d won the battle today; they’d set out to get his Y/N back from Van Eck and they had. But the merch was still winning the war.

That Van Eck was willing to risk involving the stadwatch , and by
extension the Merchant Council, meant he really believed he was
invulnerable.

Kaz still had the note Van Eck had sent arranging the meeting on Vellgeluk, but it was shoddy proof of the man’s schemes.

He remembered what Pekka Rollins had said back at the Emerald Palace, when Kaz had claimed that the Merchant Council would never stand for Van Eck’s illegal activities.

And who’s going to tell them?

A canal rat from the worst slum in the Barrel?

Don’t kid yourself, Brekker.

At the time, Kaz had barely been able to think beyond the red haze of
anger that descended when he was in Rollins’ presence.

It stripped away the reason that guided him, the patience he relied on.

Around Pekka, he lost the shape of who he was—no, he lost the shape of who he’d fought to become.

He wasn’t Dirtyhands or Kaz Brekker or even the toughest lieutenant in the Dregs.

He was just a boy fueled by a white flame of rage, one that threatened to burn the pretense of the hard-won civility he maintained to ash.

But now, leaning on his cane among the graves of Black Veil, he could
acknowledge the truth of Pekka’s words.

You couldn’t go to war with an
upstanding merch like Van Eck, not if you were a thug with a reputation
dirtier than a stable hand’s boot sole.